


Obsidian ritual knife

by Anonymous



Series: anonymous ramblings about minecraft [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author is a Toby Smith | Tubbo Apologist, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Like, Self-Harm, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has a Bad Time, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, You Have Been Warned, a lot of it, and i always will be, i am a tubbo apologist first and an idiot second, teen for the self harm, thats the basis of the whole fic, theres no graphic descriptions of the wounds but its still a big part of it, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: tubbo is suffering because i cant seem to write anything other than pain.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: anonymous ramblings about minecraft [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009905
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115
Collections: Anonymous





	Obsidian ritual knife

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVY tw for self harm, thats literally all this is about. please please PLEASE be careful while reading this.
> 
> definitely a vent fic, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night while needing to distract myself from my own bad habits, and then finished it just now because i felt bad not posting.
> 
> this is somewhat a sequel to quiet and falling? but also at the same time not. idk its complicated, basically if you want to see it as a sequel you can, but it can also be something all on its own.
> 
> if the ccs ever say theyre uncomfortable with this, i will take it down. no questions asked.
> 
> title from the scp foundation database podcast on spotify, specifically scp-034

When Tubbo was little, maybe seven or eight, he accidentally cut his hand on a knife. Tommy cried and Wilbur worried, but Tubbo never even startled. He cut his hand while trying to cut a carrot, somehow, and instead of reacting like a normal child would, he stared at the wound until it was covered with a bandage. That wound kept him up for hours that night, lost in thought.

He had gotten hurt, injuries were supposed to hurt, not feel nice. They weren't supposed to feel good, feel like something he didn't know he'd been craving. They weren't supposed to feel like he was finally releasing something he had been building up for months. He didn't quite understand why it felt nice, and he wouldn't for years. 

A few years later, Tubbo decided to experiment. Tubbo was a curious child, always thinking and experimenting and full of sometimes not so innocent wonder. Every so often he would remember the small injury, and one day he wanted to test something out. One day, close to the end of autumn, Tubbo stole a small knife from the kitchen. Not a knife that was used often, but a knife that was still sharp enough to hurt. He stuffed the knife under his pillow, and tried to forget about it for a while.

That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Tubbo brought that knife into the bathroom, locked the door, and took off his pants. He knew Wilbur had thin lines on his upper arms, and he knew Wilbur was ashamed of them. Tubbo wanted what he did to be unnoticeable, so he cut a small line into his upper thigh, and watched the blood slowly drip onto the floor of the tub he sat in.

It felt nice. It felt really, really nice.

Tubbo, ever so skilled at hiding things he didn't want to be seen, kept his little hobby a secret. He didn't partake in it often, only when very stressed, but after the move from Phil's old cabin to a new land with Wilbur's friend, the little lines on his left thigh turned into little lines on his right. 

Perhaps thankfully, but probably not, during the war for independence, he was able to keep more little lines from appearing. He kept from adding more lines by indulging himself in warefare. Little lines on his thighs turned into large wounds on his arms and torso. But large wounds weren't the little lines on his thighs, so he counted it as a win.

After Tommy was exiled for the first time was when someone found out about the little lines.

By that point the little lines had started to add up, turning from little lines to slightly bigger lines. The slightly bigger lines stopped residing only on his upper thighs, moving a little downwards, with one or two on his upper arms. Schlatt was the first one to discover them, barging into Tubbo's room unexpectedly, only to see his bare arms. 

Schlatt never got to see the slightly bigger lines on Tubbo's thighs, and maybe that was a good thing. Schlatt wasn't happy with the little lines on his arms, so Tubbo got better at hiding it. He woke up earlier than anyone else, was never seen without sleeves, and only created more at night after everyone went to sleep. 

After the festival, the little lines on Tubbo's arms and the slightly bigger lines on his thighs were discovered by Wilbur. Wilbur was disappointed, but he always was these days, so Tubbo hid them once more and went along with his day. The burns all over his body ruined the little lines on his arms and slightly bigger lines on his thighs, and so Tubbo decided to start over. Tubbo abandoned the slightly bigger lines on his thighs, and moved to slightly bigger lines all along his arm. Just his left arm, and not too many, but slightly bigger all the same.

After Tommy was exiled again, the slightly bigger lines all across his arm turned into both arms. Then they went from appearing once every week or so, to once every few days, to every other day, to every day. Tubbo knew it was getting worse. Tubbo knew Tommy would be disappointed. Tubbo knew something was wrong, but he just couldnt stop adding the lines. He deserved the lines, he needed the lines.

After Lmanberg blew up for the last time, and after Dream was imprisoned, Tubbo expected to be able to stop. He was no longer stressed, he had Tommy, he didn't need the lines anymore. But strangely enough they only got worse. Tubbo knew the slightly bigger lines on his arms didn't work well enough anymore, even if he got them every day. Tubbo knew staining his bathroom floor was better than needing to think. Tubbo knew bringing back the slighty bigger lines on his thighs wasn't enough. And so the slightly bigger lines turned into quite a bit larger lines, bloodier lines, more painful lines.

Tommy discovered the quite a bit larger lines randomly. It was midnight, Tubbo was in his bathroom, cutting those sweet sweet lines into his arms and thighs, and Tommy decided he wanted to pull a surprise visit. Tubbo should have noticed him, and on any other day he would have, but suddenly his attention changed from the quite a bit larger lines on his thighs to the boy standing in the bathroom door. Maybe it was the blood loss. It probably was the blood loss.

Tommy wasn't upset. Well, he was upset, but not at Tubbo. Tommy was upset that he hadn't noticed sooner. Tommy was upset that Tubbo had been suffering. Tommy was upset that Tubbo felt like he needed to hurt himself. That he deserved the pain. That the pain kept him happy.

Tubbo didn't want Tommy to be upset, that was the complete opposite to what he wanted. He wanted Tommy to be happy, and in order for Tommy to be happy everyone who hurt him needed to be punished. Including Tubbo.

Tommy confiscated the knife from his friend, putting it on the counter, far out of Tubbo's reach. He crouched down to where Tubbo sat, his pants quickly drenched in blood, and helped clean his friend. He cared for Tubbo's wounds, cleaning them and bandaging them and stopping the flow of blood. And then he pulled Tubbo into his bedroom, laid him down on his bed, and held him in his arms until either the boy spoke or fell asleep.

Tubbo was silent throughout the whole procedure, unable to think past the fact that Tommy _cared_ , that Tommy _didn't_ want him to get hurt, even after all that happened did to him. Hours after being dragged into bed, still being held tightly by his best friend, he finally broke down. And as he cried Tommy comforted him, held him close and forced him to know he mattered. 

And maybe it wasn't much, maybe they still had a while to go, but Tommy hadn't seen Tubbo cry since the revolution. Tommy knew Tubbo had been holding it all in for years. Tommy knew that now that Tubbo finally let him in, maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> if youre in a similar place as me, please know that theres someone out there that cares for you. even if it doesnt seem like it, there is. i know its so hard to ignore these urges, and its hard to get past the idea that it will help, but it wont. it will get better. if you ever need somebody to talk to, just know i will always be here to listen.
> 
> anyways, on a much happier note, anybody else super fucking proud of ranboo? like! thats my streamer!!! ranboo my beloved really hit 100,000+ subs on twitch!!!! mr boo im so fucking proud of you and im so happy to see how far youve come. mr boo really do be bringing hella comfort to so many people, and im so fucking proud. i witnessed him get. so many subs and i have yet to get one but thats ok!!! i am just proud of how far hes come.
> 
> also being in chat while everyone was crying over the end of undertale and holding hands was a glorious experience. 
> 
> also it took so long for me to post anything because i absolutely despise my writing style so. yeah. lol. see you guys whenever i write something i consider good enough to post.


End file.
